


might as well

by didthattwinkjustcommittreason



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), But only for the first part, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, POV Outsider, Past Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Post-Canon, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:35:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29772120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/didthattwinkjustcommittreason/pseuds/didthattwinkjustcommittreason
Summary: Leon had always known that he would never be in real trouble for speaking in any way to Arthur. Not like he would have with Uther. But there had still been consequences — namely, brutal beatdowns in training. Now that their Round Table had diminished, he and Percival had grown unbelievably close, hardened by loss and the task to keep their friends’ memories alive. They had also discovered that Arthur had become a big softie with them, and that they could pretty much get away with anything.So he paused in his laughter to say, “We’ve been waiting for a proposal so long I think we’ve missed it altogether.”--The knights call out Merlin and Arthur for acting like a married couple, and it haunts them for the rest of the day.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 272





	1. a powerful couple

**Author's Note:**

> did the title "might as well" start out as meaning "i might as well write this"? . . .perhaps.
> 
> every time i worked on this i was supposed to be doing my homework, so i hope this brings someone enjoyment ! lmao

“Arthur Pendragon,” thundered a dark voice.

It was common for a sorcerer to condemn the king by his full name before rattling off his crimes, or the crimes of his father, or the crimes of his knights or his unjust laws. It drew attention, it was powerful, it was serious and threatening.

A year ago, Leon and Percival would have drawn their swords at the ready to defend their king without hesitation. As it was, they recognized the voice and exchanged an amused, knowing glance.

The king, who had been striding towards his knights on the training field, glanced over his shoulder at the sorcerer pursuing him. Merlin’s face was flushed — from exertion? Anger?

(“Actually, he’s a warlock,” the king had corrected Leon once proudly. There was no other way to describe his tone. “Means he’s more powerful.”

“The prophecy is what makes me powerful, Arthur.” Merlin sounded far too pleased to properly exude the superiority he had surely intended to.)

“Why so sour, Merlin?” the king said brightly as he turned back around, failing to hide a grin.

“I can hear you smiling, you prat!” the warlock raged behind him.

Arthur spread his hands, coming to a stop in front of Leon and Percival. “Why wouldn’t I be smiling? It’s a lovely day.”

“How long have you been in correspondence with my mother?!” demanded Merlin, hands fluttering and indignant.

Percival bumped Leon in the arm with his elbow, but Leon refused to look at him because he knew he’d start laughing.

The king’s eyes slid to meet his court sorcerer’s, who was standing barely a foot away. They were roughly the same height; Merlin was taller if he didn’t slouch, but sometimes he slumped enough that Arthur stood higher. With his anger, he stood straight, and Arthur had to look up the slightest, but he didn’t appear bothered by this.

“You cannot tell me who I can and cannot write letters to. I’m the king.”

This argument never went over well with Merlin.

“You’re an arse, is what you are,” Merlin snapped.

Some of the newer knights behind them caught this comment and shifted on their feet uncertainly. Leon bit down on his cheek, but the corners of his mouth turned up anyways. He knew Percival was outright smiling beside him,  _ don’t look, don’t look — _

“Hunith told me she doesn’t hear from you enough.”

“I’m  _ busy _ ! Which is  _ your fault _ !” the warlock cried incredulously.

“Too busy for your own mother?”

“No!” defensively, then, “You weren’t going to tell me you invited her here?!”

“So you don’t want her to visit?”

“I didn’t say that!” Merlin exploded.

“There’s just no pleasing you,” Arthur said in a smug tone that meant the phrase had history. Judging by the glowering look he was receiving, it was possible he’d reused the warlock’s own words.

Percival elbowed him again; Leon’s mouth twitched wildly.

At last the king stepped forward to give directions for the drill. Leon cursed in his head as he was forced to look at Percival, whose grin only widened. Leon shook his head at him as they continued to watch the king and his court sorcerer out of the corner of their eyes.

Arthur maintained his smirk for a few seconds until he softened. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise, Merlin,” he huffed, then rolled his eyes. “I forgot surprises give you a heart attack.”

Merlin’s anger deflated in turn. “I haven’t encountered many positive surprises in my lifetime.”

“Just how old do you think you are, Merlin?  _ Being _ an old man doesn’t make you one.”

“. . . I rather think it does, sire.”

“You know what I mean! Being Dragoon.”

“Well, I sure know what it feels like. And anyways, I’ve aged several extra years looking after a royal toddler for the past decade.”

Percival actually snorted, and damn, that did Leon in. He swung his sword away from the other knight and propped himself up with it against the ground, unable to contain his laugh. At the break of his usually stoic demeanor, Percival too threw his head back and guffawed.

“Something funny, Leon? Percival?” The other knights paused briefly but Arthur waved them on as he stopped beside his last two Round Table Knights.

Leon had always known that he would never be in real trouble for speaking in any way to Arthur. Not like he would have with Uther. But there had still been consequences — namely, brutal beatdowns in training. Now that their Round Table had diminished, he and Percival had grown unbelievably close, hardened by loss and the task to keep their friends’ memories alive. They had also discovered that Arthur had become a big softie with them, and that they could pretty much get away with anything.

So he paused in his laughter to say, “We’ve been waiting for a proposal so long I think we’ve missed it altogether.”

When twin looks of confusion met him, he and Percival only laughed harder.

Arthur raised a brow that would have made Gaius proud. “I’m not certain what you’re getting at.”

“You should have invited us,” Percival said, then ruffled Leon’s hair playfully. “Leon would have made a pretty flower girl.”

He slapped Perce’s hand away, still huffing out laughter. 

“Knights. Thick-headed as always,” Merlin muttered, to which he received a shove from the king.

“You two might as well be married,” Leon clarified at last, almost incredulous that they couldn’t see it. “You’re conjoined at the hip and you argue like my grandparents.”

Confronted, the king and his court sorcerer stared back at Leon and Percival’s accusations for a moment. Then Merlin turned to Arthur. “Leon seems to think I’m old,” he said, gesturing to the knight.

“Missing the point as always, Merlin,” Arthur chuckled, smile crooked.

“You’re not going to deny it,” Leon said, amazed.

“Oh c’mon, Leon,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, “you know how my last marriage went.”

“Lasted longer than  _ I _ thought it would,” Merlin commented. “Gwen put up with you a great deal more than she should have.”

Even the king’s jaw dropped. He cuffed Merlin on the back of the head. “Ow,” he complained, but he was grinning madly.

“Lighten up, Arthur,” Percival joked, “he’s clearly jealous.”

This did nothing to douse Merlin’s mirth. “Maybe I am! With all due respect to Gwen, gods bless her, I’ve done twice the work for this idiot-” he jabbed an accusing thumb, “that she has and received hardly a fraction of the thanks.”

“Last time I thanked you, it did almost kill me,” Arthur said with a blinding grin.

“That’s not funny!” snapped Merlin, flicking the King of Camelot on the temple as the man laughed. “And it’s not my fault you waited until the last possible second to show some semblance of gratitude.”

“Only it  _ is _ your fault, isn’t it?” Arthur said smugly. “I didn’t know there were all those secrets you kept to thank you for.”

Merlin’s face flushed again. “How about for putting up with all of your horseshit? Or being your closest friend?”

“It’s like we’re not even here,” Percival murmured to Leon. The redhead stifled a snort.

“You think you’re my closest friend?” Arthur asked, still grinning.

Merlin crossed his arms. “It’s either me or the pitcher of wine you talk to when you’re drunk.”

This got the knights guffawing again as the king stepped forward and took the warlock in a headlock.

“Shove off, you clotpole of a prat!”

Merlin tugged vainly at the restraining arm as Arthur scrubbed his hair wildly with his free hand.

It was a sight to behold; the King of Camelot, who could throw him into the dungeons on the simple charge of Merlin’s mouth, mussing the hair of the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth, who could easily launch him across the field with a lazy flick of his wrist if he wanted. They were a powerful pair. It was a good thing they spent so much time bantering, or they’d have taken over the world already.

When Leon said as much, he found his sword sliding out from under him and made a rather undignified noise as he wobbled back to balance. The knight caught the golden flicker of Merlin’s satisfied eyes half a second before they returned to blue.

And yet, he did not free himself from the king’s grip. Arthur lifted him up a little higher to conspire in his ear, and it looked more like an embrace than anything. But before Leon could do any further damage, Merlin’s eyes lit up again and a clanging noise sounded nearby.

“Leon, behind you,” Percival warned, and he turned just in time to block one of the spare training swords, which suddenly had a life of its own. A mace and axe danced not far behind.

“You two should get back to work,” Arthur advised amiably as the two of them scrabbled for their shields. Some things never changed, it seemed. Or perhaps they had been pushing their luck.

Before any further strikes landed, Leon heard, “Don’t be too harsh on them, Merlin.”

“Of course not, sire. I’m not you.”

If there were any consequences for this jibe, Leon and Percival were too preoccupied to hear it.


	2. inseparable, insufferable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The joke about them being married would be utterly ridiculous if only they both weren't so hung up on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this second half three times as long as the first? as the author i can tell you, I Don't Have the Answers™

“I’m surprised,” Merlin began as he worked on unstrapping the king’s armor.

They were back in Arthur’s chambers, the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows with the lazy sort of heat that perfectly matched the mood after training. It lit up Arthur’s hair and made his skin glow. He stood behind the king’s line of sight; what did it matter if he stared a little?

Arthur hummed in response. “Should I call for Gaius?”

Merlin fought and lost against a smile, and settled for handling the straps more roughly than necessary in retaliation. “I would’ve thought you’d have an outright fit at their teasing,” he went on.

“Still thinking about that, are you. Why’s that?”

“You have quite the temper, for one,” Merlin said, successfully removing the breastplate.

“I do not!” Arthur denied incredulously.

Merlin set the breastplate down on the table with care, wordlessly commanding the polish out of the cabinet. It seated itself beside the armor as the warlock returned to Arthur’s side. “I can cite plenty of examples for you if you’d like.”

He gave a little upwards gesture with his hands, but it was unnecessary; Arthur had already lifted his arms. As Merlin freed him from the chainmail, the king grumbled, “You have your moments, too. You almost annihilated that one poor bandit, remember?”

Merlin flinched. “I was having a bad day,” he mumbled out the fib. He perfectly remembered the incident Arthur was referring to. They’d been ambushed on a minor political trip to Mercia, and it was the first time the king’d been in real, immediate danger after Merlin barely saved him at the Lake of Avalon. When he saw that bandit behind Arthur. . . before the king could even turn at the sound of the footsteps, a sort of blind rage and fear had filled the warlock. Merlin blasted the man across the clearing with enough force to give a near fatal concussion after he slammed into a tree. The raw, uncontrolled surge of power still haunted him.

Perhaps sensing his guilt, Arthur didn’t press his point. “Hey,” he said suddenly. “Let’s go riding.”

“Riding?” Merlin scrunched his nose in confusion, glancing back. “Now? We just got back inside.”

“I’ve never heard you complain about being outside on a spring day like this, Merlin,” Arthur challenged.

Merlin thought on this a second. “We aren’t killing anything, are we?”

“Not unless something tries to kill us first.”

The warlock heaved a sigh, leaving the armor and polish on the table to await his return. “I’ll ready the horses.”

“Grab some food, would you?” Arthur eyed him as he headed for the door. “It’s not fit for a king to skip his lunch, and you’re skin and bones as it is.”

“Of course, sire. We wouldn’t want your belts to get too loose.”

A stray goblet smashed against the door, purposefully to the right of his head. He tossed a cheeky smile over his shoulder and waved his hand to lift the goblet up and grab it so he could return it to the kitchen while he was there. 

By the time Arthur met him outside the stables, everything was packed on Merlin’s trusted mare. He watched Arthur sheath Excalibur in the scabbard on his own horse and eyed the man apprehensively. “Should we go back and put on your armor again?”

Arthur shook his head as he slung a leg over the saddle and climbed atop his horse. “I’m not worried,” he said dismissively. “I’m with you.”

An unexpected swell of emotion prevented Merlin from replying for a moment. He got astride of his own horse before he could find his voice. “Sure, leave all the worrying to me, as usual,” he said, hoping to disguise the embarrassing waver.

“I can’t help that you’re jumpier than your horse,” Arthur teased, reaching out to bump him lightly as he passed to lead the way to the gates.

They didn’t stray too far — at Merlin’s insistence, considering his king’s vulnerable dress — riding side by side when the paths allowed. Arthur grumbled about being stuck so near to the citadel since he usually rode out to escape his duties, but he was clearly still enjoying himself, gaze sweeping over his woods with pride and satisfaction. The weather was nice enough that he slid off his long jacket, revealing a loose V tunic. Merlin had been entertaining him with various trivial updates of his servants and citizens that the king tended to be too busy to keep up with (as if his Court Sorcerer didn’t have just as much work.)

The castle could still be seen through the trees when they stopped roughly a quarter hour later beside a stream for the horses. By this point he was certain Arthur had stopped listening to him, but he continued on anyway, now about the little girl Gwen had been sitting for one of the maids. “Enide likes to play with the hounds,” he said as he wrestled the satchel off his horse. “Gwen found out that even Arwach turns into a harmless puppy when she’s around.”

He grunted as he unstuck the bag from where it’d caught on his saddle, his horse nickering at him in some mixture of amusement and annoyance. He started to slide in the mud when Arthur snagged hold of the satchel’s strap and hauled him back to balance.

“Still the clumsiest man I know,” he said, rolling his eyes as he took the satchel himself. Then he reached out again and Merlin paused so that Arthur could pluck a leaf from his hair. “Honestly, Merlin.”

The warlock ducked away when the other pulled back. “It’s just a leaf. You’re the one who insisted we come outside,” he properly tied their horses to the trees close to the water, “and now we’ll be all muddy.”

“I know you’ve seen more mud than this, Merlin,” Arthur snorted as he began to dig through the bag.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you popped out of the woods completely covered, remember?”

Merlin looked up at him, squinting. “No?”

Arthur looked up as well and huffed. “Come on. It was the one time I - you know.”

This time Merlin would’ve made Gaius proud. “You what?” he asked, brow high.

Arthur stared at him a moment longer before his head dropped back to the contents of the satchel. “You really have no recollection? When we all thought you were dead?”

Merlin finished tying the horses with a frown and, stepping gingerly over the mud, made his way to Arthur. “Wait. Are you talking about when Morgana put the Fomorroh in my neck and made me try to kill you?” He unconsciously rubbed the spot, knowing from Gaius that there was a scar marking the place. “I told you, I don’t remember anything from when I was under her control.”

Arthur appeared uncomfortable. “Oh. Maybe.” They were silent for a moment before the king said, “Well, you were filthy when I found you. Looked like you were rolling around in a bog.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to look like that now,” Merlin grumbled, snatching back the satchel since Arthur had done nothing but remove a waterskin. He reached out a hand to conjure a blanket, but before he could, Arthur’s jacket dropped to the ground at their feet.

“What’d you do that for?” Merlin asked. “I was going to take care of it.”

Arthur shrugged, plopping down on his makeshift blanket. “I’ll just make you clean it.”

“Alright,” he said, sitting down as he began to pull sandwiches from the bag.

“By hand,” Arthur smirked, accepting the one Merlin handed him.

“Whatever you say, sire,” Merlin said in mock monotone, biting into his own.

“I can tell,” he insisted in a rather unkingly fashion, mouth full.

Merlin replied in a like manner. “Can you?”

After swallowing and taking a swig of water, Arthur clarified, “Smells better.”

Affronted, the warlock demanded, “Are you saying my magic smells bad?”

“No,” Arthur said around another bit of sandwich. “I’m saying it smells like nothing. When you actually wash my things, it smells like- like. . .” He made an empty hand motion.

“Milk and honey. Spices,” Merlin suggested.

“I guess.”

Merlin had gotten quite good at sighing through his nose. “If it means that much to you, fine.”

Arthur grinned at him. “You always come through, Merlin.”

“I made the mistake of spoiling you, and now you’re ruined.”

He received a side eye for this comment. “I wouldn’t exactly call your services ‘spoiling.’ Unless you mean ‘rotten.’”

“I guess you don’t want this, then,” Merlin said, pulling a plump peach out of the satchel. The king reached out, but before he could steal it Merlin took an exaggerated bite.

A strange combination of appearing both aggravated and crestfallen crossed Arthur’s face and delighted Merlin. He wiped the juices from his chin and enjoyed the king’s sullen expression a moment more before he revealed another one.

Arthur seized the easily bruised fruit with careful fingers and then shoved Merlin harshly, who took the abuse with a jubilant snicker.

They enjoyed themselves in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Merlin squinted at the king. “You never answered me. How long have you been writing to my mother?”

Arthur sighed. “Under half a year.”

“Half a year! Why?”

He picked at the peach pit instead of looking at the warlock. “I suppose it is rather unusual.”

Merlin watched him for a few breaths, noting the lack of eye contact. And then felt like an arse. It wasn’t like Arthur had a mother to write to. He’d hardly denied the king anything before; if he wanted a mother’s love, he should have that, too. “It’s unusual that you didn’t  _ tell _ me,” Merlin amended. “Now it seems like you’re both conspiring against me. What do you even talk about?”

Arthur grinned at him, eyes finally rising. “About how much of a dollophead you are, of course.”

The warlock glared, but there was no heat in it. “This simply won’t do,” he said loftily. “You can’t write her anymore. She’ll like you better than me.”

He received a snort for this. “C’mon, Merlin. Exasperating as you are, you’re her whole world.” It came out almost wistful toward the end.

Fingering some of the wet blades of grass, Merlin replied, “Still. You get along so well with her.” He caught the other man’s eye. “Makes me feel bad about how poorly I hit it off with your father.”

Arthur threw his head back and guffawed. After they both took time to laugh, the king leaned back a little, shifting on the jacket. “He might have tried to let you die several times, and he definitely would’ve killed you if he  _ knew _ , but he seemed to know you were good for me. And I think even he found your clumsiness charming, to a degree.” Merlin froze as Arthur searched his eyes in the way he sometimes did when he was being serious. “You just have some way about you, Merlin.”

A long moment passed before Arthur finally broke eye contact and chucked the peach pit into the woods. They heard it land with a hard thud some distance away. “I still miss him. Not enough to try bringing him back ever again, but. . . I don’t know. I think about him often. I guess that’s kind of messed up, since he tried to kill you and Guinevere the last time we saw him.”

Merlin made a face and shook his head. “No, that’s fair. I mean, he  _ was  _ your father.” He threw up his hands. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s done some fucked up things. But he thought what he was doing was right. And he did love you, Arthur. Everyone knew that.”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck and hummed. He looked about to say something when suddenly Merlin scrambled to his feet.

“What is it?” Arthur asked him, rising as well. He eyed Merlin’s expression, then his hand, raised in defense, and stepped over to his horse to draw his sword.

“No, Arthur,” Merlin said sternly. “Let me. You’re not wearing your armor.”

The king ignored him, brandishing Excalibur by his side. “I’ve told you before, Merlin — we’ll face everything together.”

He caught the other man’s eye and nodded.

Both their heads whipped around at the breaking of branches, staring intensely at the woods around them for the source. After a moment, their lines of sight dropped to a squirrel.

Arthur stepped in front of his Court Sorcerer. “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,” he announced to the otherwise empty clearing. “I know squirrels are your weakness.”

Merlin huffed at him and swatted his shoulder. “That’s not what I heard!”

Arthur remained unconvinced, and dropped back down to his jacket. “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” he protested.

“C’mon, Merlin,” Arthur said, tugging on his ankle. “Just sit down. And pass another sandwich, would you?”

The warlock complied with reluctance, sweeping their surroundings suspiciously until Arthur threatened to eat his share of the food and he started in again.

“He would’ve been proud of you, y’know.”

It took Arthur a bit to realize that Merlin was referring to Uther again. He smiled bitterly. “No, he wouldn’t. I’m undoing everything he worked for, destroying his legacy.” He frowned at his sandwich. “He told me himself how he felt when we saw him as a ghost.”

“He’s set in his ways,” Merlin persisted, “and your views will always differ. But there’s plenty of things he could still appreciate. Camelot is at peace, and stronger than it’s ever been. You’re a great king, Arthur. The people love you.” He shook his head. “You’re not destroying his legacy, you  _ are  _ his legacy, which is better than anything he could’ve ever hoped for.” His voice dropped. “Better than he deserved, in my opinion.”

Arthur stopped to really look at him, to give an uncertain smile. Merlin reached out to put a hand on his arm, adding, “You are the greatest king Camelot has ever known. Will ever know.”

The king’s smile turned a bit snide, but at least it was more genuine. “Laying it on thick, are we, Merlin?”

The warlock shrugged it off. “Well, if I’m the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth, it’s only fair you’re my equal, right?”

Arthur laughed again and Merlin was delighted at the mirth in his king’s eyes. “Oh, how things have changed. Sometimes I still can’t believe it.”

“Not much has changed,” Merlin scoffed. “You still need supervised every hour of the day, and apparently I have to do your laundry by hand.”

He was so busy enjoying the glint in Arthur’s eyes that he only grew aware of their company when the horse burst into the clearing.

Immediately, his hand on Arthur’s arm (which he had fully intended to remove several moments ago) tightened in a quiet command not to get up. Arthur’s opposite hand landed on Excalibur beside him regardless, and Merlin’s rose in defense, both still seated.

When they saw who it was, Merlin’s hand dropped (again) to the jacket. “Gwen.” He tried to keep his voice light. He was relieved of course, but some part of him was astonished and embarrassed that he had been caught off guard since he was too busy  _ staring at Arthur _ , of all ridiculous things.

“Arthur, Merlin,” Gwen greeted sheepishly, having pulled to a stop. By now he noticed the small girl astride the horse before her — Enide. She peered at them with interest. “I’m sorry,” Gwen went on after the initial surprise had passed from them all. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your picnic. I know you probably came here to be alone-”

Merlin chose this inopportune moment to drop his hand off Arthur’s arm, intending to be dismissive and subtle. But in the sudden stillness, it felt blatantly obvious.

“Picnic?” Arthur said, brow furrowing in confusion. “We’re not out on a picnic.” Then his gaze fell to the jacket and the half eaten sandwiches they’d both dropped at Gwen’s arrival, studying the scene about him as if for the first time.

Then he met Merlin’s eyes. “For the sake of the Triple Goddess, Merlin,” he said, “we really  _ are _ married, aren’t we?”

Praying he was not blushing furiously, Merlin summoned a cheeky smile. “Must be the honeymoon phase if we’re out on a picnic.”

“Who are they?” Enide’s question drifted to them.

“Are you Enide?” Arthur said, calling out to her with a gesture. Merlin turned to him in surprise.

“You were actually listening to me?”

Arthur leveled him with an unimpressed expression. “I always do,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re so inclined to believe that I don’t pay attention to you.”

Thankfully, the man’s attention returned to the young girl as Gwen helped her off the horse, and he didn’t have to witness the strange look Merlin was sure crossed his face.

“This is the king, and this is his court sorcerer,” Gwen said, motioning to them in turn. They stayed sitting so that they were at her height. She gave Arthur a clumsy little curtsy, and then he shook her hand solemnly.

When she stepped to Merlin, he put out his palm as well, and as he gripped her little hand, she turned back to Gwen while pointing at the warlock with her spare one. “Is he why you’re not queen anymore?”

The three adults choked simultaneously.

“No, no,” Gwen said, mortified,“I am no longer queen because it was not the right place for me.”

“But you told the knight. I heard you,” insisted Enide as she ceased her handshake with Merlin.

“It wasn’t like that,” Gwen sputtered, eyes darting between Arthur and Merlin, then back to Enide. “I was just making a joke. I thought you were asleep,” she added, just an edge cross.

Enide gave her a toothy smile. “Sometimes I pretend because I’m not sleepy, but I know you like me to nap.”

Merlin and Arthur exchanged a glance and then quickly made a silent decision not to look at the other.

“I’m sorry,” Gwen said again, herding Enide back to the horse. “I didn’t mean to- I didn’t know- I’ll see you back at the castle,” she mumbled, clearly still flustered.

She got Enide and herself back on hastily and urged the horse to return the way it came.

The king and his warlock sat in silence until the sound of hooves faded away.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No, of course not.”

“Guinevere and I are just better as friends. And she didn’t want to be queen anymore.”

“I know.”

Merlin tossed their half eaten sandwiches in the satchel and gathered their waterskins as Arthur scrambled for the horses. He handed Merlin the reins of his horse as the warlock ordered the mud to slip off the jacket and for it fold itself.

“I’ll wash it later,” he promised.

Arthur climbed onto his horse. “Good.”

They gradually relaxed on the way back, and Merlin managed to coax Arthur into complaining with him about the visiting nobles they had put up with last week. By the time they were riding through the gates, both of them were doubled over with laughter.

“I’m not kidding you!” Merlin cried. “Every time I passed by him I held my breath. It was so awful. The poor girls attending him kept trying to interest him in a bath.”

“It’s a shame Lord Ogden was actually nice. I almost feel bad,” Arthur said good naturedly.

“His niceness is the only reason we’re not banning him from Camelot.”

Arthur didn’t correct him on the  _ we _ or the fact that Merlin had no legal control over such things. He just chuckled as he slung off his horse and passed the reins over to the stableboy. He did the same for Merlin once the man had dismounted as well.

“Let them deal with it,” Arthur said as Merlin started to unpack everything. 

“I can clean up after myself, unlike you,” Merlin countered dryly, but he quickened his pace with magic and followed Arthur with empty hands as the satchel and jacket danced behind them merrily.

“Now you’re just being showy.”

Merlin splayed his hands in exasperation. “If I use my magic, I’m showy. If I don’t, I’m an idiot. There’s just no pleasing you.”

They exchanged grins as they walked up the stairs to Arthur’s chambers.

“You’re tracking mud everywhere,” Merlin said as he waved a hand to fade the marks left by Arthur’s boots as they went, then the boots themselves.

“You just love complaining, don’t you?”

“I’ve become very good at it over the years, I’m not about to give it up now.”

Arthur bumped into him with a shoulder and Merlin bumped back and they kept slamming each other side to side down the hallways.

Merlin let their things drop on Arthur’s table beside the armor and polish that were still waiting patiently from earlier and gestured for the door to shut with a finger. Now that they’d returned for good, he eased the windows open to let in the spring air they’d just left behind.

“You can go if you like.”

He watched as Arthur sat down behind his desk and opened one of the drawers to withdraw an envelope. After a moment, he realized it was the one Arthur had stashed away earlier.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” he accused.

The king lifted it nonchalantly before ripping it open. “This? It’s just correspondence from Mercia,” he said vaguely.

“Don’t lie to me,” Merlin snapped, and the paper whipped out of Arthur’s hands once it was free from the envelope.

“Hey!” Arthur exclaimed. “That’s an abuse of power,  _ Mer _ lin!” He wrung out one of his hands as he stood, and the warlock paused as the paper came to his grasp.

“Did I cut you?” he winced, spotting a slice of red as he got closer to the king. He hovered a hand over Arthur’s finger and the papercut sealed itself right back up. When Merlin was distracted, Arthur stole the letter back. “Arthur!”

“It’s  _ my _ letter!”

“Why can’t I know what you two are talking about?!”

They both got a hand on the paper and froze as it started to tear. As it was held taut between them, they scanned the familiar handwriting of Hunith.

~~_ Your Maj _ ~~

_ Dear Arthur, _

_ Nothing would please me so much as to come and visit! Please don’t worry about accommodations; I will take the simplest room you have to offer.  _

_ I must thank you for always being so generous to me. Besides any affection you feel towards myself, I know it stems for your fondness for my Merlin. I am forever grateful that the two of you have grown so close. I have never seen him this inseparable from anyone, even with Will — and those two were thick as thieves, mind you, quite the troublesome pair. Though, from the few stories he’s related to me (and my heavy suspicions that he keeps most from my awareness) I suppose you two get into much graver danger. I would entrust no one with my son’s life more than you, Arthur Pendragon. And I feel in my heart that you are safest with him, too. _

_ Speaking of Merlin, please try to keep him from working too hard. He used to complain to me of all the work you give him, but I know he undertakes most of it himself.  _

_ I look forward to seeing you again, Arthur. I will follow my letter in a few days. Perhaps I can bake honeycakes for you while I am there! I would make them before my departure, but as Merlin has pointed out to me, they are best served warm. _

_ Take care, Arthur. Thank you for writing. _

_ With love, _

_ Hunith _

Arthur’s arm sagged as he finished reading, and Merlin let go not long after.

“I’m not giving her a simple room,” Arthur said out of the blue. “She’s getting the most luxurious spare we have. I’ve already picked it out.”

“Does she always go on like that?” Merlin asked hesitantly. “About me? About. . .us?”

Arthur folded the paper, a cheap kind that Hunith could afford, and tucked it back into the envelope with care. “No. Well. Not that much, usually.”

Flushing, Merlin mumbled, “Sorry about that.”

The king shrugged, replacing the letter back in the drawer. Merlin glimpsed previous letters of the same handwriting beneath the newest addition before Arthur pushed it shut. “I don’t mind.”

Before Merin could fuss over the implications of such a statement, Arthur said, “She thinks we’re closer than you and Will. Or how you guys were back then. Is that true?”

Merlin scoffed at him. “Arthur. . . I was already closer to you when you met Will for the first time.” He smirked. “And by now, I can practically hear your thoughts.”

Arthur frowned at the warlock. “Oh yeah? Well, then.” He made a motion for him to go on.

“Mm, probably something along the lines of, ‘There’s no way this dollophead knows what I’m thinking.’”

The king pushed him away from his seat, but both were smiling. “She seems to think we’re each other’s keeper,” he said. “I suppose she would enjoy the story of how we saved each other from that heinous squirrel.”

Merlin grinned. “A good story while we’re eating honeycakes. I can’t wait.”

“Always thinking of food, Merlin,” Arthur teased. “Getting too close to supper?”

“No. We just got back from our picnic,  _ love _ ,” Merlin said dryly, edging around so that he stood in front of the desk. He flicked the unfinished food out of the satchel for emphasis and let it dump on the table beside Arthur’s jacket.

“The idea is so abhorrent, is it?” Arthur asked after a beat, tone light, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. He was staring at the discarded sandwiches, absentminded.

Merlin shrugged, voice joking. “I mean, we do spend every waking minute together. Sometimes — I don’t know — it sort of feels like, might as well.”

“‘Might as well,’” Arthur echoed. “You and me. Might as well marry.”

“Well. Just because. Everyone else seems to think we already are.” He clung desperately to the edge of humor as nervousness crept into his voice.

Merlin made the mistake of glancing at the king and the two locked eyes. 

“Are you suggesting. . . we get married?” Arthur asked slowly, and  _ for the love of the gods _ , the man’s tone walked a thin line between jest and deadpan, and for all his claims to hear Arthur’s thoughts, he had  _ no _ clue what was going on in that head right now.

_ Of course not, _ he should have said. Or,  _ If it means we get to go on more picnics _ or  _ If it gets Leon and Percival to shut it _ or  _ It’d be something exciting to tell my mum _ !

Damn himself, he shrugged again.

“Merlin,” Arthur pressed, rising from his chair with a furrowed brow. “If I proposed to you right now, what would you do?”

The warlock’s jaw worked, but no sound came out. Too late, the quip  _ Turn you into a toad _ popped into his head unhelpfully.

He swallowed as Arthur joined him on the other side of the desk, studying him intently. “You’d go through with it? On a  _ might as well _ ?”

As his mouth formed another silent non-answer, Arthur admonished, “Don’t you dare shrug again.”

“No,” he said tightly. “Not on a might-as-well.”

Arthur’s expression did not change. “Alright,” he said, shamelessly stretching out the syllables. “Not on a might-as-well. But. . .?” He raised an eyebrow.

Oh gods, he was fucked. What was he  _ supposed _ to say? The  _ truth _ ? That marrying his best friend would be a dream come true? That he honestly probably would settle for a  _ might as well _ if it were Arthur, he was that head over heels, for Triple Goddess’s sake?

“But nothing,” he said weakly.

Arthur gave him a hard stare that said he was unsatisfied, and between that and the massive panic warring in his chest, his resolve crumbled, and he began to babble.

“I mean, it could work. Theoretically. It would be convenient and stuff. The closer we were, the easier it’d be for me to protect you. The less explaining we’d have to do. The knights would shut up.”

“You’ve thought about this before,” Arthur said in wonder.

Merlin blushed. “It’s crossed my mind, like,”  _ every day, _ “a couple of times. Er, just in an abstract, hypothetical sense.”

“Hypothetically,” Arthur began again stubbornly, “If I proposed to you right now. Would you say yes?”

There was definitely a right answer to this question, but Merin was doubtful it was the truth. So he  _ shrugged _ . Because it was his only defense!

Arthur knocked their heads together in agitation. “You’re insufferable, Merlin.”

With their gazes just inches away, he gave in. “Yes.”

“What?”

He huffed a little. “C’mon, Arthur. You have to know I’d say yes.”

“Why should I know?” Arthur barely breathed.

As he decided to just out himself completely, the humor finally returned full force to his voice in all its useless glory. “My mother practically spelled out that you’re the most important person in my life,” he said as a lazy smile stretched his face. “If you could ever put two and two together you’d realize just how in love with you I am, you giant clotpole.”

He caught a flash in Arthur’s eyes before he was being kissed senseless.

When they stopped to breathe, Arthur said, “Thank the gods you finally stopped shrugging.”

Merlin scowled at him. “A lot of good you were doing. What was I supposed to say to a hypothetical proposal?”

“I hope you realize now that wasn’t hypothetical,” Arthur clarified with a grin. “It’s too late. You said yes. I’m telling your mother.”

“What?!” Merlin protested (purely for the sake of protesting; he was not at all troubled by this sequence of events) but anything else he had to say was smothered by another kiss. 

“We are going to hear it from Leon and Percival, aren’t we?” Arthur said after pulling away.

Something occurred to Merlin, and he grinned wickedly. “Let them have their fun. They’ll make up for it at the wedding.”

“Oh?”

“It’s like Percival said. They’ll make lovely flower girls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of an abrupt ending, my bad, but i really need to do my homework now lmfaooo
> 
> thank you for reading ! have a wondrous day


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